Harry Potter and Merlin's Gift
by Shawn Dumbledore
Summary: Harry Potter receives new abilities, finds love and has the final showdown with Voldemort.... Man, I suck with summaries. Just telll me what you think.


**Disclaimer: **If I told you that I owned Harry Potter and every thing about him, I don't think that you would believe me. Grin Damn, I guess I'll have to go with the truth. Everything about Harry Potter belongs to a wonderful lady by the name of J.K. Rowling. So, please do not sue me. I don't have much, save for my dog, whose name is Josie, and this flimsy excuse for a computer.  J 

I want to apologize to everyone that just _loves the way Rowling portrayed Ginny Weasley… Nah, I take it back, I'm not going to apologize. The reason being, mainly, I _hated _the way she got portrayed, so be prepared to see a change in this book. Please don't flame me. That's right, I said _book_. It's going to be fairly long . . . That is if you ladies and gentlemen like it. J_

**Pairings Disclaimer:** The pairings in this story will be H/GW, R/Hr and Sirius Black with an original character. 

**Author's Note: **I also want to apologize for this first chapter being so dark and boring—but I had to give a set up somehow. 

This is my very first attempt at Fanfiction, so I would be _extremely appreciative if you gave me some feedback/reviews and tell me if I'm wasting my time or not. If I don't get any I will quit with this first chapter and continue to read what the good authors of Fanfiction write. I'm serious . . . I am very nervous about writing for the public and I would love your input._

 Sincerely,

          Shawn Dumbledore

       **Harry Potter and Merlin's Gift ******

                                 By Shawn Dumbledore

**Chapter One: **Bitter thoughts, Rage & Torment 

It was five minutes to midnight and the boy known as Harry Potter lay in his bed wide-awake. The bed itself was quite lumpy and he only had a sheet to cover himself with, but it wasn't the coldness or the uncomfortable bed that kept him awake. After all, the boy was used to far worse conditions than he was in now. At least the Dursley's didn't make him sleep in the cupboard anymore. That was a plus in the Harry's eyes.

It was July the 30th, five more minutes until his 15th birthday and he couldn't help but lie awake and think about what life had been like since his eleventh birthday—the day he found out he was a wizard. He had made friends and enemies since that year. In addition, he had seen people saved and he had seen people die right before his eyes.

_"Kill the spare." _Those were Voldemort's words.

Those words had echoed through his head ever since it happened. Friend's, and even people he hardly knew, told him that it wasn't his fault. However, in his heart, Harry was positive it was his fault. He knew that Cedric would still be alive if he hadn't insisted that they take the Cup together in the tournament—the Cup that turned out to be a portkey. 

_"Kill the spare." _In all truth, that was part of the reason that Harry was awake. Sometimes he would go days without sleeping, just so he wouldn't hear those terrifying words in his dreams. He didn't want to see Cedric crumble to the ground like nothing more than a rag doll, with a look of sheer terror etched on his face. He didn't want to see that horrible green light of the killing curse—and he certainly didn't want to hear Voldemort's cackling laugh.

The strange part was that the dreams were coming _almost every time he went to sleep. That was strange to Harry. The main reason that it was strange was that on the nights they didn't come, he was dreaming of someone that he never thought that he would. And the dreams of this girl came often, but not often enough in Harry's opinion._

If Harry told someone this, they would probably automatically think that it was the smart and talented—not to mention beautiful in her own way—Hermione Granger. However, the people that would have thought that would have been dead wrong.

Hermione, or Mione, as everyone has been starting to call her, was not the girl in Harry's dreams. He _did _love Mione, but it was the kind of love a boy would have for his favorite sister. She was there for Harry in more ways than he could think of.

So, no, it wasn't Mione.

It wasn't Cho Chang, either. If the truth were told, he couldn't think of that girl without becoming guilt ridden and nauseous. She was Cedric Diggory's true love—even if Harry knew that she also had a crush on him. _That was what caused the feelings of guilt and nausea when he thought of the beautiful girl._

The Boy-Who-Lived knew one thing for certain: There were seven Weasley brothers that would kill him for the contents of some of the dreams he had. Especially his hotheaded friend Ron.

Yes, the girl he had sporadic dreams about was none other than Ginny Weasley. The funny thing was though, nine times out of ten, they were not erotic. They would just be sitting outside Hogwarts by the lake and she would have her slender arms around him, whispering soothingly, over and over, that nothing that happened was his fault.

The result was that he would wake up feeling a little better.

However, those dreams did not come often enough. More often than not, the dreams were always about Cedric Diggory and Tom Riddle. Harry had decided to call the evil being by his real name at the beginning of the summer. It somehow made him a little—a _very _little—easier to think about. Harry thought it was good to use the name of the evil, just as Dumbledore did.

Harry tried to remember the good days, if any days could be good with the Dursleys, when he would stay up till midnight, waiting for his next birthday. Nowadays though, Harry actually feared what the next year of his life would bring. He knew for a fact that it was a justifiable fear, too. 

_What will happen if my friends die next?_ _What if I have to watch Ginny, Hermione, or Ron, crumble into a lifeless heap?_ Harry thought, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It had never occurred to him that he had just put Ginny's name in front of Ron and Mione's name.

Harry looked at the clock just as it clicked to 12:00am. He was fifteen. He knew he should feel joy. After all, it wasn't everyday that you turned fifteen. In this case though, all he could feel was a sinking depression and dread of what might happen when Tom Riddle came back for him while Ginny, Ron and Mione were with him. His friend's would probably brain him if they knew the truth: The truth being, Harry didn't care if Tom Riddle came after him while he was all alone. Because then it would end. Hell, he might even get to see his parents again.

When he cried, he did not sob. He never made a sound.

Harry knew for a fact that Tome Riddle had reached full power and was already acquiring followers. More Death Eaters. How he hated the visions! He was so tired. So tired of watching people die before his eyes in his dreams. Dreams that he knew were true; that he knew were visions. Sometimes the visions would be so intense that the scar on his forehead would turn purple and sometimes—when the visions were _really_ bad—it would open up and seep blood.

Professor Dumbledore should know about the visions, Harry knew this. There was little he could do, though. Things had changed in a big way since he made it back to Privet Drive. Harry looked at his window, and his view was somewhat obscured by the bars that were placed in front of it. The bars were there to keep him from receiving letters by owls. With that, Harry knew he would get no presents for his birthday this year. Not that he _wanted gifts. It was the thought; the thought that people _really _did care. Harry didn't care if the gift was a lump of coal. It __still showed that they hadn't forgotten about him, and they did care._

By far, Harry thought that it was Vernon that had changed the most, though. There was a difference in him that scared Harry. Sometimes, usually after Vernon had a few glasses of scotch, Harry actually feared for his life. Where before his uncle would shout and make threats, now he would simply carry the threats out—in a very violent manner.

Harry's bruised face, cracked ribs, and a leg that was injured enough that it was a real task just to walk, was a testament to the fact. Since he had come back from Hogwarts, his Uncle took great pleasure in beating him whenever he felt like it. Without being able to use magic, Harry could do nothing about it. He never screamed when he was beaten, only cried silently, not making a sound. The sad part was that he thought that he deserved it for what happened to Cedric. And for Tom Riddle going after Ginny's mind through a diary. Not to mention all the times his friend's almost died.

The one time he did scream and sob, his Uncle had never laid a hand on him. What Vernon _did _do was kill Hedwig, the large snowy owl that Hagrid had bought him for his birthday. Hedwig was the only friendly companion that Harry had on Privet Drive. 

His Uncle had simply grabbed her by the neck and snapped it before Harry could do anything. That was the same day that he had broken his wand over his knee, snapping it clean into in one motion. Then just to make sure Harry couldn't use the pieces, he got in his car; drove to God knows where, and buried them. 

When his Uncle came back, he told Harry in no uncertain terms that he was never to leave his room. If he were out of his room, his regular beatings would seem like a pleasant dream. Every other day he would receive a couple of pieces of bread and a glass of water. "And you should be THANKFUL for that, you little FREAK!" That was what his Uncle would always scream at him.

The bad part was; Harry started believing him.

Harry heaved a great sigh when he thought about his life. The sigh turned into a groan though, because his ribs protested loudly at moving in such a manner. In fact, that was part of the reason his face stayed impassive as of late—he had received too many strikes to the face; it hurt to open his mouth or smile, not that he felt the urge to smile about anything. There weren't many places on his body that didn't hurt.

_You deserve every blasted pain you got, Potter. _He thought to himself bitterly. _What you should do is end it all, so no one else gets hurt. You could break that mirror above your dresser and use the glass . . . Harry considered doing just that for about two minutes—then he decided that was the coward's way out. That same thought of suicide came about twice a day. Most likely, it would come again later._

The-Boy-Who-Lived knew that he would give into it sooner or later.

Harry looked at the window again and decided that he would just ignore the pain; he couldn't lie in bed no more. Slowly swinging his legs off the edge of the bed—his face ashen from pain—he stood up on his own two feet and walked to the window; his legs were throbbing from abuse. In the last four years though, Harry had started to gain a high tolerance for pain. In his opinion though, no one his age should have to do that.

The moon was bright that night. He wished he could be outside. He wished he could be with his friends. Hell, he would prefer to be with Professor Snape than where he was now. Harry stared out that window for what seemed like hours. He had two thoughts on his mind.

He wished he were at the Burrow with Ginny, which was one of them. The other was: if he couldn't be at the Burrow, he wished he would just cease to exist. He didn't want to kill himself at the moment—but he _did wish that he would just fade out; have no conscious thoughts._

Harry really didn't know how long he stood at the window staring at the moon. He probably would have stayed there until morning, to watch the sunrise; when he had something to focus on, he could block the pain. _Oh, Ginny, how I wish you were here. _He thought heavily, envisioning the vivid red hair and soulful brown eyes and the soft voice she had in his dreams. Pleasant thoughts were rare for Harry, but this one was very pleasant indeed.

Harry was lost so deep in thought that he probably would have stayed at the window till sunrise. Thinking of Ginny did that to him. However, something broke his reverie, something loud. It was the loudness of the "Uncle Vernon" variety. 

"YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE OR I SWEAR I'LL PULL THIS TRIGGER!" 

_He sounds livid. _Harry thought. With the frame of mind he was in at the moment, he really didn't care, though. They were in the hallway now and Harry could hear them perfectly.

"YOU CAN'T HAVE THE LITTLE FREAK! HE'S UNDER MY CARE!" Vernon screamed at the top of his lungs. 

Now Harry was intrigued. _Could it be a Death Eater or a friend? _He thought this dully; not scared at all, just numb. In the next moment though, he heard the other man's voice and knew _exactly who it was. For the first time since he had arrived back at Privet Drive, hope flared within him. And for the first time in a long time, he ignored the pain and smiled fully._

"If you don't tell me where my Godson is, I'm going to tear your fuckin' throat out and make your pig of a son eat it." The man did not yell or snarl. In fact, the statement almost sounded cheerful, as if he were looking forward to doing just that. He sounded almost insane.

Then again, Harry supposed 12 years in Azkaban would take a little (or a lot) of a person's sanity away. Harry could hardly believe it. His Godfather, Sirius Black was in the hallway outside of his room—and he was furious.

                          *****************************

Sirius jerked the shotgun out of Vernon's hands before Vernon even knew what happened. Sirius knew that he couldn't use magic here because of the protection spell, but that didn't stop him from slamming the fat bastard that called himself Harry's Uncle against the Hallway wall. Then he pulled a hunting knife out of the sheath that was on his hip, and placeed it against Vernon's throat with almost inhuman speed.

This had all started with Ginny Weasley. The little redheaded girl with big brown eyes had thought to do what the others never considered. Sirius figured the others didn't owl him like Ginny did because they were afraid of the consequences. They knew that when he lost his temper he wasn't exactly . . . Stable.

When she wrote and told him that all the letters sent to Harry by her, and by his other friends, were returned unopened he was worried. But when he sent Harry his early birthday present and it was sent back smashed with the letter not even opened, he was furious.

Dumbledore had urgent business that involved Voldemort or he would have come himself. He had told Sirius that Voldemort was attacking another Wizarding School and he had to be there for the battle.

Then to top everything off, before he left, Dumbledore—a man who was usually unflappable—told him to hurry, and the old man had a look that Sirius had not seen since he had found out that Harry's parents were in danger. That . . . That sent Sirius over the edge. That was what made him bring the hunting knife—he couldn't find a pistol in time.

His icy blue eyes glinted murderously as he held the razor sharp edge of the hunting knife against Vernon Dursley's throat. In all truth, if the man he held the knife against didn't answer his question this time, he would kill him and find his Godson by himself. This wasn't the loving Godfather that Harry was used to seeing—this was a man that lost part of his mind in Azkaban and would do _anything _to protect what little amount of friends and loved ones he had left. Especially Harry—who he considered a son.

He blocked out Petunia's shrieking and Dudley's screaming as he held the knife to Vernon's neck, right against the artery. Sirius asked the question softly. He was also wearing a smile; a smile that did not even come close to reaching the coldness of his eyes. Vernon could still hear the murderous edge to his voice, though. "Where is my Godson?" After he asked, he nicked Vernon's neck with the knife so it barely drew blood.

Vernon went completely pale. He had thought that it was all a bluff by Harry that Sirius Black was his Godfather. Here he was, though—and he was very upset. Vernon made a quick decision. He would tell this mad man where the freak was and when Sirius went to get Harry, he would run like hell and be out the door in the blink of an eye. Because, surely, once this mad man laid his eyes on Harry, there would be Hell to pay.

"He's in the last room on the left." Vernon let out with a shaky breath.

"I want you to remember something, Vernon. I know your going to run when I turn my back. Just remember—it's _very _hard to hide from a wizard," The tone of Sirius' voice was just as icy as his eyes. With that said, he pulled the knife away. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind."

Sirius didn't think a man that large could move so fast. His entire family ran top speed down the stairs and out the front door, not bothering to shut it. Sirius knew the man was too afraid of wizards to go to the muggle police, but he still had to get Harry and get out quick. Surely, the neighbors heard the screaming.

Sirius moved with quick, but sure steps to the last door on the left. He saw the deadbolt on the door and let out a growl that would have made his friend Remus, who was a werewolf, proud. With all his might he did a front kick, and the door not only opened, but damn near came completely off its hinges. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks and have some very vicious thoughts about torture and murder. His other thoughts were of guilt. In his mind he should have been there for Harry sooner, even if he did have to hide from the Ministry.

Harry looked at his Godfather and thought that he looked a lot healthier than he did last time he seen him. Sirius was in muggle clothes. He was wearing a sleeveless, button up shirt with snug black jeans and a black pair of boots. Even though it hurt, he smiled. He was also swaying back and forth, as if he was about to collapse at any moment. 

Sirius was about to say something but Harry beat him to it.

"I don't want to go Hogwarts. Take me . . . ," He had to pause to get his focus, because he was about to fade out. "To The Burrow." Then he completely faded out and started to fall.

Sirius, being quicker than quick, was across the room and caught him before Harry was even halfway down. He scooped him up as if he was a small child and noticed how light he was. He also noticed the bruises on his face and arms. He was fairly certain they were elsewhere as well. 

He had one thought before he started to leave the house with Harry. _I should have killed that son-of-a-bitch. _Although, he did vow he just might do that if he ever saw him again. He knew for a fact that Remus Lupin would have. Remus' wolf instincts considered Harry his cub. And they had all made a promise to James, Harry's father, that they would protect him if anything should happen.

Sirius never once questioned Harry's reasoning for not wanting to go to Hogwarts. His _real _family was his _friends._ And his friends were at the Burrow. That, he knew, Remus Lupin would completely agree with. Harry should be with his family.

_Speaking of Remus, I'm going to need his help. Arthur's with the Ministry. _Sirius thought bitterly. He knew he also had to owl Madam Pomfrey. Harry _definitely needed medical attention, and he would need it right away. _

Sirius was glad that Remus was right outside, where he had made him wait—for the reason that even he could tell that the wolf was to close to the surface in his friend because of his emotions. If he had went in with him . . . Well, there would have been a blood bath and the last place he wanted Remus was Azkaban Prison.

                          **************************

It was past one 'O clock in the morning and Ginny Weasley was sitting at the desk that was in her room with a single candle lit. The reason she didn't use more light was because she didn't want to disturb the slumbering girl that had bushy brown hair. That person's name was Hermione Granger. She was here for the summer and Ginny was glad. _At least she doesn't treat me as if I'm glass that might break. _She thought bitterly.

Ginny knew that her Mum would have kittens if she knew she was up this late, but Ginny couldn't help it. The nightmares were getting worse. Nightmares of her doing exactly what Tom Riddle wanted her to do—kill Harry. She would wake up right before she screamed, luckily. She didn't want the whole family to know about her nightmares. She hadn't even told her best friend Hermione about them, and she wasn't planning too.

The strange thing though, was that when she wasn't having the horrific nightmares that shook her to the very center of her being; she was having the best dreams that she could possibly imagine. It was odd for her. There was no in-between. It either was terrifying dreams— or dreams that left her in complete elation during them.

Dreams of her and Harry by the lake, where she would just sit and hold him; whispering everything would be OK. They had even had great conversations in the dreams. They seemed so _real, too. Ginny would always wake up smiling afterwards and almost be walking on air the rest of the day. Of course, her family thought that she had gone quite mad on days like that because she wouldn't stop smiling. She also wouldn't tell anyone why._

The other dreams, though, were the contradiction.

The guilt she felt about the things she did two years ago still ran heavily through her veins. _How could I have been that naïve?!? Her mind screamed at her. _

The logical answer was that she was severely lonely at the time and she thought that the magical diary would give her something that she didn't think she would ever have: A true friend. Instead, it turned out to be the worst enemy that she had ever encountered. To top it off, she had to have Harry Potter save her. And when he found out what she did, what did he do? The boy she was in love with shrugged it off and told her it wasn't her fault. Then again, that was Harry—completely selfless.

The other reason she was up was because she was awaiting word from Sirius. He had promised her that he would contact her when he found out something. Ginny had told no one that she had written the man that had an infamous temper when it came to the protection of Harry. She was a little mad at Mione for not doing it. In her defense though, she had said that she knew Sirius' temper and she didn't want him to get into more trouble with the law for killing muggles . . . That is, if they _did do anything to Harry. So, instead she wrote Dumbledore._

Ginny wasn't mad at Ron, though. Sirius was his first choice. It was just that himself and Mione had a big row over why he wanted to write Sirius. Ron knew exactly what Sirius would do if those slimy muggles had hurt his friend, and he was all for it. That made Mione furious. So, Ron backed down and wrote Dumbledore as well.

Then, Ginny wrote Sirius in secret.

She was fourteen years old now and was way beyond a crush when it came to Harry Potter. It was a crush when she was ten. It was a crush when she was eleven. It was a crush when she was twelve. But now? She knew for a fact that she was head over heels for the boy with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. However, this had nothing to do with Harry being one of the most famous wizards in the world. It had nothing to do with him winning the Triwizard Championship. It had everything to do with his bravery, his self-sacrifice and loyalty to his friends. Harry Potter truly had a good and just heart in her eyes.

The last time Ginny spoke to him, she glanced into his eyes—and what she saw there broke her heart. It was as if a piece of his soul was stripped from him. He looked broken. Harry looked like a person that was ready to lie down and give up. It was because of her stupid—or at least she thought it was stupid—shyness that she didn't give him the hardest hug she could and tell him it was all right. Nothing was his fault and that she would always be there for him.

As she stared at the dim candle light, Ginny's eyes took on a look of hardness and determination. _Never again. I'll never fold under pressure or shyness again. She thought. Ginny swore this on the Weasley name. And in the Weasley family, that was as good as a vow to God._

She looked back down at the book she was reading before her thoughts had drifted. _"Advanced Charms and Spells." _The spells in the book were so advanced that even the seventh years in Hogwarts didn't study them. Hermione found and bought the book when she went on a vacation to America with her family.

Ginny had at least a dozen books of similar variety hidden.

No one but Hermione knew that she was studying such advanced magic. Some of the Spells were borderline Dark, but not quite. But there was no way that she was going to become Dark, as Tom Riddle did. It was just a year ago she decided it was best to go by a muggle saying she heard once. "Fight fire with fire." She wanted to be able to help Harry the next time he was in trouble. She no longer wanted to be the girl that hid behind her parents and brothers, depending on people to save her.

Only Hermione—she and her brothers called her Mione now—knew just how good she was at charms and dueling. Mione even told her that she didn't even know any seventh years at school that could hold a candle to her when it came to battle magic. That was one of Ginny's proudest moments when her best friend told her that. In truth though, it scared her a little when Mione told her that she knew more spells than Harry did. Ginny couldn't have that. She would teach him what she knew when she seen him again.

But Mione also told her that she was worried that she was studying too much. She was studying even more than Mione was, and that was saying something. Her friend told her that it isn't good to become that obsessed with something. That she should have some free time to act her age, instead of studying all the advanced books she had hidden. Ginny's answer to that was simple.

"I have to help Harry."

Ginny had another secret that she didn't even tell Mione. She had been having dreams besides her own nightmares. She was having nightmares of Voldemort using the Unforgivable Curses and gathering his followers. She also knew that he had his power back in full. Ginny knew deep in her gut that these just weren't nightmares—they were visions. Visions like Harry had; and she didn't have a clue as to why she had them.

Ginny had no idea how she acquired these visions, but she was certain of one thing—a war was coming . . . And she would have Harry's back.

Ginny frowned when she thought of all the letters she had sent Harry. They had all been returned, unopened. It was the same with Mione and Ron's letters as well. _Why can't you get our letters? _She thought worriedly as she chewed on her bottom lip girlish manner.

Mione was willing to give the Dursleys the benefit of the doubt and think that maybe there was an explainable reason they had lost contact with Harry. She also browbeat Ron into doing the same. Hermione was like that; she gave people the benefit of the doubt.

Ginny, though . . . Ginny couldn't explain it. In her dreams with Harry, while they were sitting by the lake with a beautiful sunset, he had told her the Vernon had lost it. The man was different. Harry wouldn't explain further, though. _The dreams seem so **real**! She thought with clenched fists. She knew she couldn't tell anyone about the dreams because they would pass it off as _'Ginny's school girl crush'. _She wanted to scream!_

Ginny decided right then and there, if Sirius didn't contact her within the next two hours, she would go to the Dursleys on her brother's broom—and may God help them if something was wrong with Harry, because there was no other being in the world that would stop her from punishing them.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN HAPPENED TO HIM?!?" Ginny's head snapped to the doorway automatically when she heard the shrill and upset scream of her mother. On instinct she grabbed her wand and flew out the door. 

Mione flew out of bed too, grabbing her wand that was under her pillow. Her bushy brown hair was a mess and she was in her sleeping gown as she ran behind Ginny. "What's going on?" She asked Ginny as they ran down the stairs.

Ginny didn't bother to answer as she made her way down the stairs. When she was at the bottom she noticed the whole family was there. Well, besides Percy, Bill and Charlie. Her Dad was standing ramrod straight with a stony face. Ron and the Twins were there, though. Her Mum was standing in the middle of the living room; all their faces a picture of shock. 

That was when they noticed a man in ragged looking robes and he had brown hair that was turning prematurely grey. They knew this fact because he only looked to be in his mid-thirties. There was also a large black dog beside him. If it were possible for a dog to look worried, that one did. Hermione recognized both of them immediately. "Professor Lupin? What are you . . ." She didn't finish her question when she noticed what, or rather _whom he was cradling in his arms._

Ginny and Mione's eyes both filled with tears as they saw Harry. They could hardly recognize him. He looked a lot lighter and his face and arms were covered in bruises. They both guessed at the same time that his clothes were probably covering more injuries.

The short, plump woman known as Molly Weasley immediately took charge, even though her eyes were brimming with tears. "Place him on the couch, Remus. I'll get some cold rags. Have you owled Dumbledore?" Her voice started out calm, but it cracked at the last part. Arthur hadn't told her that Dumbledore was currently in battle. She wanted to let out a sob. _How could **anyone **do this to a child??? She thought frantically._

"Dumbledore's away. I owled Madam Pomfrey." Remus Lupin, the werewolf, said slowly and carefully, enunciating each word perfectly. He gently laid Harry on the soft couch. He spoke, though he was apprehensive about speaking; the wolf was to close to the surface. The only thing that kept him from bolting out of the house and tracking down Vernon Dursley and tearing his arms off was the fact that Harry needed him here more than he needed his revenge. If Sirius could hold it in, so could he.

Ron and the twins were in shock.

Hermione was openly sobbing.

The person that surprised Remus the most was Ginny, though. She wasn't sobbing. Her shoulders weren't shaking, but there was tears flowing down her cheeks. Lupin looked at the hand that held her wand and her knuckles were white from the death grip she had on it. Then she did something that was completely out of character for her because she hardly ever looked people in the eyes for more than a second. She was just usually too shy. 

She looked him dead in the eyes and the hatred he saw there almost made him flinch and step backwards. Her voice did make him shiver. And that was saying something, because he had seen a lot of things in his life. Hell, he lived through being a werewolf.

Ginny's eyes were as cold as ice when she spoke at barely a whisper. "Who did this???" She hissed out.

Remus Lupin hated to admit what he thought at that moment. He hated it with a passion. But at that moment, he was fairly sure—no, he was _positive _Ginny would commit murder to avenge her friend. Sweet little Ginny. The Ginny that always had a sparkle in her eyes. The same Ginny that was always to shy to look a person in the eyes for too long. Now the Ginny he knew had eyes that held nothing but coldness and fury.

He also knew another certainty at that moment. Ginny Weasley was head over heels in love with Harry Potter. It was no longer a crush. It was pure and simple love—and love can drive a person to many things. "I'll tell you when you calm down. You have my word." He spoke slowly to keep his own temper in.

Ginny gave one curt nod and kneeled beside the couch, brushing Harry's hair away from his closed eyes with a gentle hand that showed her love. Remus was amazed at the transformation. Her eyes went from cold fury to loving compassion in a heartbeat. He never thought a fourteen year old was capable of such a thing. _She really does love him. _He thought, his mood lightening somewhat, but not much.

"Remus?" 

Remus looked up from Harry and Ginny at the sound of Molly's voice. "Yes, Molly?" His sentences were still brief because he was afraid the wolf would surface at any moment. 

"Would you help me get some cold rags?" She asked in a small voice. Remus knew that she could summon them with magic if she wanted, but he knew what she really meant was that she wanted to talk with him in private. He read it in her eyes that she wanted answers and she didn't want the children to hear.

He gave a curt nod and looked at the large black dog. "Snuffles, stay with Harry." _As if Sirius would ever leave his side when he is that hurt. _He thought wryly as the large black dog walked over to Harry and laid his head on Harry's legs.

Molly motioned with her head towards the kitchen. She noticed with a little pride that none of her children, or Hermione, was leaving his side. In all truth, Molly considered Harry to be one of her own—even if he wasn't blood related.

"I'll come with you to get the rags." Arthur Weasley stated, speaking for the first time. This was the first time Remus had seen Arthur when he wasn't cheerful or joking. The man that stood before him had a face so stony that it matched his.

                          **************************** 

The Weasley kitchen wasn't small, but it wasn't large either. The dining table was rather large, though. This was because of how many people lived in the house and visited. Remus really wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, though. He sat down in one of the chairs at the table and waited for the questions to begin. Then Arthur said something that startled the usually unflappable Professor Lupin.

"You might as well call _Snuffles in here as well. I want his account, too." He didn't crack a smile when he said it. But Remus noticed that there was also no hatred on the emphasis of Sirius's nickname. He was still nervous about it though._

He gave Arthur a blank look, as if he didn't understand.

The redheaded man just gave a sigh. "I've known Sirius is innocent for a while, Remus. You have no need to fear me doing anything foolish." He stated, giving the Professor of "Defense against the Dark Arts" a tolerant look.

Remus let out a relieved breath. "Sirius! Get in here!" Remus called in a loud voice.

Arthur gave sad attempt at a smile. "I could have done that." This was stated with minor amusement. In all truth, though, he couldn't bring himself to find amusement—not with Harry the way he was. That and knowing were Dumbledore was at the moment. 

The War between Good and Evil had begun.

The only reason that he was here was because Dumbledore _ordered _him to stay at home. _"The Ministry will need a leader." _He had told Arthur this because they had found Minister Fudge and his family dead in their home, with the Dark Mark hovering above it.

There was a little yelling from the living room when the twins made surprised sounds as they found out that an escapee from Azkaban was in their living room. Surprisingly though, a few snappish words from Hermione shut them up rather quickly.

A moment later, Sirius Black walked into the kitchen. Molly, with her eyes puffy and red from crying, compared the man she saw before her with the teenager she went to school with. With his black sleeveless shirt and snug jeans, she could see the cut muscle that was under his skin quite well. But that was not what she was focusing on. It was his eyes. 

Sirius' eyes were what had changed the most since he was sent to that horrible wizard prison for something he didn't do. His eyes were hard, icy and most of all—they still looked murderous for what happened to Harry. With a whimper Molly ran to him and embraced him in the hardest hug she could manage. "I never believed anything they told me." She whispered fiercely.

As Sirius hugged her back his eyes softened a bit. "It's good to see you again, Molly," Then his eyes tracked to Arthur. "You to Art." Then he let her go.

Arthur gave a weak smile. He was not jealous of Sirius. He knew that Molly loved him with all her heart. But he also knew that Sirius, Molly, Remus, James and Lily were like brothers and sisters when they attended Hogwarts. Hell, Molly was Lily's bride's maid and Sirius was James' Best Man.

Sirius took a seat beside Remus, as Molly took a seat beside her husband. "What's your question, Art?"

"Who was it that found, Harry?"

"I did. Ginny was worried and owled me. Then Dumbledore told me that Trelawney had one of her _"real rare" visions." Black said in a flat, quiet voice._

"I do have a request. And I ask that you _please trust me. We've known one another since we were kids and I want you to know that it'll be over my dead body before they send you back to that hell hole." This was all said ****__very seriously._

Sirius had to admit that it made him feel a hell of a lot better knowing that his old friend felt that way. He wasn't one for mushy scenes, though, so he just arched his eyebrow, awaiting the request.

Arthur saw that Sirius was waiting for the request and didn't make him wait long. "I want to see your memory of those bast—of the Dursley's home and what happened." He barely caught himself from cursing in front of his wife. He knew she would disapprove. "I would have to cast a spell." 

Sirius took in his friend's apologetic look at the thought of casting a spell on him and shrugged. "Go ahead, Art. Won't be the first time you cast a spell on me." He replied with a tiny smile.

Arthur smiled at the memory of turning his old friend's hair green when they were in their third year at Hogwarts. The smile was short lived though as he got up and walked around to where Sirius sat. "Just try to relax." Arthur felt more than a little proud that his friend still trusted him, even if he did work for the Ministry.

Sirius just nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on what he had seen that night. He listened as Arthur said the incantation for a memory spell while pointing his wand at him. It took about five minutes for the memories to be transferred. 

When it was over, Arthur lowered his wand and sat down beside his wife with a _'thump'_, the memories were running rampant through his mind over and over. Molly looked into her husband's eyes, and for the first time in all the time she had known him, she feared what she saw there. Arthur was usually a gentle and loving man, sometimes a joker. However, at the moment, the look in his eyes told her that if Vernon Dursley were in their house . . . He would gladly quit his job at the Ministry of Magic and use a killing curse on the man.

Arthur's left eye began to tick as the memories kept playing. In his mind he saw the deadbolt on Harry's door. He smelled the stench of the room, because the Dursley's would not let him out to use the bathroom, or shower. Most of all—and it made his heart break—he heard Harry's words. "Take me to the Burrow."

That was not the only memories that Sirius sent, though. Sirius had preformed the same spell on Harry on the way over, after he borrowed Remus' wand. He was _very _surprised at first, because Harry's strongest emotions and memories came first. Dreams. He saw all the dreams. The ones about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn't surprise him. He knew Harry had visions. Arthur knew he was plagued by them.

What did surprise him was the ones where he was at Hogwarts, sitting by a lake at sunset—with his daughter Ginny. Harry couldn't really identify the emotion that he had for Ginny, but Arthur could: Pure Love. Harry had put the memories of the dreams in the forefront of his mind, just to _try to keep himself sane—and it worked, mostly._

Arthur even surprised himself. Most Father's would have been upset, and a little angry—especially about the more . . . Sensual dreams the boy had with Ginny. Arthur, however, thought Ginny and Harry would be perfect together. He knew of Harry's qualities very well. The boy was loyal, selfless, and brave and he would die before letting his friends get hurt. He couldn't ask for a better boyfriend for Ginny—and he wasn't blind; he knew that his daughter felt the same way about Harry.

Arthur felt grateful to Sirius for letting him know how his Godson felt about Ginny. He knew that Sirius only had to give the memories that he wanted to. For that reason, he owed the man.

After he got past the memories of the dreams with Ginny, though, things turned horrid. Arthur's nails bit into his palms until blood seeped out as the memories flooded him. His entire body was rigid.

He watched in horror as almost from the time Harry walked through the front door of the Dursley's home, the beatings began. He watched as Harry was locked in his room, then beaten almost everyday. He watched as Vernon Dursley grabbed Hedwig by the neck and killed the poor owl. He watched Harry's wand being broken. Arthur watched as Harry got only two slices of bread and a glass of water every couple of days. And he heard the scorn in Harry's Uncle's voice as he called him a _freak everyday._

But the worst part was that Harry believed he deserved it.

Molly watched her husband nervously. She had never seen the look his eyes currently held. She noticed that his fists were clenched so tight, his nails cut into him and blood was dripping on the table.

Arthur's head snapped up so quick that it made Molly flinch, and he looked dead at Sirius; his eyes were narrowed and murderous. There were even tears leaking out of his eyes that he was so angry. At that moment, he didn't care if his wife heard him curse.

"You have a hell of a lot more fucking restraint than I do!" Then he stood up and stormed out of the room. He took a different entrance so that his children wouldn't see him this angry, all the while thinking: _I would have gutted the bloody git where he stood. _

That was so out of character for Arthur that everyone at the table looked shocked, even Remus, who usually showed little emotion. Sirius had expected tears and confusion, not that—not a protective streak ten miles wide. Sirius' respect for Arthur Weasley went through the roof that night and he was _very _glad that he brought him to the Burrow.

"My God, I've never seen him that angry." Molly murmured, a little worried. Then she looked at her childhood friend. "Show me. Please." She knew Sirius knew what she meant.

             **************************************

In the Weasley living room things were tense. Hermione was no longer sobbing, but tears were still rolling down her cheeks as she looked at Harry lying on the couch in such an awful state. She wanted to hold his hand and whisper soothing words to him, she really did.

However, Ginny took that role as soon as he was settled. 

Everyone in the room was in a severely depressed mood. Even Fred and George, who would usually try to cheer people up with jokes, just sat in the floor with their eyes lowered. Nobody ever expected to see Harry like this. After all, this was Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. This was the boy that bested Voldemort when he was nothing but an infant. This was the boy that had survived three more encounters with Voldemort and lived to tell the tale. There were even rumors at Hogwarts among the students that Harry was just flat out unable to be killed!

Yet, here he lay, unconscious and incapacitated. 

It wasn't only Harry that Fred, George, Ron and Hermione were worried about, though. They were also worried about Ginny. While she was gently stroking Harry's hair and murmuring how he would be ok, she stopped for a moment. In that moment, she flicked her wand and said a spell, and then suddenly a bag of Floo Powder was by her side.

With hard, cold eyes, she looked at the powder, and then looked at Harry, then at the fireplace. She was obviously having an internal war about what to do. Amazingly, it was Ron that helped her come to a decision. The same Ron that was usually the _first _one to lose his temper.

Ronald Weasley laid a hand on his sister's shoulder, which was very tense, as he knelt down beside her. "What do you think Harry would want more? Having you here with a smile for him when he wakes up? Or having to listen to us explaining why you're in Azkaban for murder?" His voice was soft and gentle, which was amazing, considering how furious he was on the inside.

Ginny gave Ron a small teary smile and patted his hand. Then she gave him the Floo Powder so she wouldn't be tempted to use it. "Thanks, Ron." She told him in a small voice.

Ron just nodded and took his seat back on the floor. Even though Harry was severely hurt, Ron was having conflicting emotions about the obvious look of love in his sister's eyes. On one hand, he wanted to play the protective brother. On the other, he knew in his heart that she couldn't find a better boyfriend than Harry. He decided that he would just have to wait and see how things played out when Harry woke up. _And he **will **wake up. He told himself with conviction, wiping at his eyes._

"Where's Madam Pomfrey? She should be here." Hermione stated irritably. In truth, she wasn't feeling that charitable towards Professor Dumbledore at the moment. After all, he was the one that placed Harry in the Dursley's home.

"I'm sure when she gets the owl Professor Lupin sent she'll apparate here immediately." Fred stated.

"Yeah, you know how upset she was the last time Harry was hurt." George said immediately after his twin. "And she knows how important he is to Dumbledore."

Hermione grudgingly admitted they were right. If Dumbledore ever admitted to having a favorite student, she was sure that it would be Harry. Of course, she knew that he would never do that. She knew that Dumbledore _did _try to treat all of his students equally. It was just that Harry would usually have to be treated differently, mainly because he was the person that You-Know-Who wanted dead the most.

"He's running a fever," Ginny stated as she laid her hand on his forehead. "We need those--" She was suddenly cut off before she could finish the sentence.

A whirlwind of motion shot out of the kitchen in the form of a short, plump woman with vivid red hair. Ron and the twins almost ran from the room when they saw the look on their mother's face. Livid would have been a _very _mild term. Her eyes were full of fury. She had a bowl of cold water in her hands and some rags that were in the bowl. Her grip on the bowl was so tight that her knuckles stood out in stark contrast.

Molly was never a violent woman, but she was ready to be. _I don't care what Dumbledore says, Harry's staying **here **from now on. _She thought hotly. The images Sirius had sent her shook Molly to the bone. _How could they have done that to Harry?_

When she spoke, it was terse. She didn't mean to be, but she was upset. Sirius and Remus stood behind her with the same stony facial expressions they'd had since seeing Harry in the condition he was in. "Kids. Go to your rooms. Now!" Molly snapped. She knew that she would have to apologize later so that they would know that she wasn't angry with them.

Ron, Fred, George and Hermione all started up the stairs. They knew that Molly was not in the mood for arguments. Even though Molly knew Ginny wasn't going to move, she said what she said next anyway. She had seen from Harry's memories how much her daughter meant to him. She wanted Ginny to be there when he woke up.

"Ginny, you can stay. But you'll have to turn your back while I undress him and clean him up." Molly told her daughter in a considerably softer voice. Like her husband, she wasn't blind; she knew what Ginny felt for Harry.

Ginny had been ready for the argument, she had prepared herself for it when she had seen her mother's face when she came into the room. So what her mother told her had completely shocked the young redhead. She looked up into her mother's eyes and saw nothing but warm understanding and compassion. __

 _She knows I'm in love with him. The teenager thought with awe. _And she basically gave me her consent! _A smile, albeit small, touched the corners of her lips before she spoke. "I'll sit with my back turned while you clean him up, Mum." She said, then leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Everything is going to be fine." She whispered, but Molly heard her and it warmed her heart._

Molly gave a sigh of relief that her daughter had chosen one of the best possible suitors in the Wizarding Community to fall in love with, and he felt the same way for her. She watched as Ginny got up from where she was sitting, walked over to the fireplace, and sat with her back turned to Harry. She did see her give Remus an expectant look. Molly knew her daughter wanted answers. Remus looked at Molly, and she gave a nod of consent. With that, he went and sat with her by the fire.

                  *****************************

Through all the talking, weeping and guilt; nobody noticed that there was one important fact about Harry that they all missed. In all reality, though, there was no way that they could have caught what this fact was.

Harry was lucid—sort of.

The Boy-Who-Lived could hear everything that was going on around him. Most of all—and this was something that he didn't understand at all—he could feel Ginny's emotions rolling off her. The girl had a myriad of emotions rolling through her, but he could only identify four. Rage, loyalty beyond belief, and a protective streak a mile long. But the last emotion was what surprised him the most. In fact, it shocked him.

Love. It was so pure that it rocked Harry to the core, and when it hit his core, it left him with such a sublime feeling of warmth that if it were possible, he would have been grinning like a fool. He wasn't positive about his feelings for Ginny at the Dursley's, because he only _really had conversations with her in his dreams—never in real life. Now, however, he knew _exactly _how he felt. He would walk to the ends of the earth, fight Tom Riddle without magic and change _any _of his faults, just to make the redheaded girl of his dreams happy. He knew what he felt: He was in love—that was a pure and simple fact._

Then, when he was laid on the couch by Uncle Remus (Harry didn't know when he started thinking of Remus like this, but it felt right.) Ginny was immediately by his side, stroking his hair and holding his hand. It was so much like the wonderful dreams that he had, that he could have wept with relief. It seemed like most of his depression was swept away by one stroke of her hand. He had wished with all his heart that he could see her face, but he was unable to open his eyes for some cause.

_God, I wish I could see those beautiful eyes—that gentle expression of acceptance. _Harry thought. 

Harry listened to her next words and if he could have, he would have groaned with disappointment. "I'll sit with my back turned while you clean him up, Mum." Then there was a pause, and then Harry felt a kiss on his cheek. "Everything is going to be fine."

Harry almost stopped breathing when that happened. Then he knew for certain that _one _kiss on his cheek made him even happier than when Hagrid told him he was a wizard and would go to Hogwarts, which meant he would get away from the Dursleys for most of the year—now _that _was saying a lot.

_She sounds so sad. Blast it! I wish I could tell her not to worry. She's meant to smile, not frown. _He thought, getting a little angry with himself for making her feel like this.

That was when Harry froze. It wasn't out of pain, because at the moment he could feel none. No, it was something else. He couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something . . . Something that just wasn't right. Then he heard it. Not with his ears, but inside his head.

It was a dryly-amused chuckle that sounded a bit like Professor Dumbledore's when he was amused. Harry knew that it wasn't Dumbledore though, because even though they were similar, they were still different. Then the voice came.

**_'Ah. Young love. There is nothing better. You shouldn't worry, my boy. You'll see your lady soon enough.'_**_ Again, the voice sounded highly amused._

For some reason, Harry almost felt that he knew that voice. He knew that he had never heard it before in his life, but he _knew it and his instincts told him he could trust whoever was speaking to him._

_Who are you? _Harry asked; his curiosity peaked. Harry had started to ignore what was going on in the Weasley home and was concentrating on this voice, but he was vaguely aware that Mrs. Weasley was washing him.

**_'That, my Dear Harry Potter, you will find out very soon if you wish too. I will not tell you my name at this moment because you would not believe me.'_**The voice told him this in a half-serious and half-amused tone. Again, Harry was reminded of Dumbledore.

_You wouldn't be able to tell me why I can't open my eyes or move, would you? _Harry asked hopefully. Finally admitting to himself, since his depression lifted somewhat, that he was indeed worried about that.

**_'Ah. That is my doing. You would be in way too much pain if you were _****completely _lucid, Harry. Besides, I needed to speak with you and this is the only way.'_**

_What did you want to talk to me about, sir?_

There was a dry chuckle before the voice spoke. **_'You can drop the 'sir', young man. As for what I wanted to talk to you about . . . I have a request and it is rather very important.'_**

_Yes?_

**_'This is going to sound strange, but I need you to come to where I am—which is sort of like the Astral Plain, only different. I know it sounds outlandish to a young man like you, but it is important.'_**

Harry had a suspicion that he voiced at that moment. _You could drag me there against my will if you wanted, couldn't you?_

There was a pause. Then the voice started again. **_'Yes. But I would not. I want you to come of your own free will. I want you to claim what is rightly yours.'_**

_And what's that?_

Again, the voice was highly amused**._ 'Come and see for yourself.'_**__

Harry thought about it for almost two minutes straight. Then he had a question. _How long would I be gone?_

**_'In your time? No longer than a couple of minutes. Time is different where I am. We'll probably just chat for a bit, and then I'll send you back with what is yours.'_**

_Is it really important?_

**_'Yes.'_**_ This time the voice was very serious._

Harry hesitated for a second, and then answered. _All right. _

Then there was a bright flash behind Harry's eyelids, and all of the sudden, his mind was no longer in his body.

                 *************************************

TBC

**Author's Note: **Please review, that's the reason I am writing this. Tell me what you think; give suggestions on the plot if you wish. I already—pretty much—have it mapped out, but nothing is set in stone.  J


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